


A Captain's Price

by junko



Series: Written in the Scars (of Our Hearts) [31]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 12:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1018379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Byakuya prepares to take a team into the Rukongai to intercept a bandit attack on a Kuchiki supply train.  Meanwhile, in the Human World, Renji tries to avoid the up-coming episode of Don Kanonji's "Ghost Bust" which is reported to feature a sighting of a naked, red-haired, tiger-striped, moaning ghost at a hot springs near Karakura Town....</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Captain's Price

When Byakuya woke, he called for tea and Eishirō immediately. It was going to be a busy day, and they needed to be organized right away. Byakuya dressed himself as he waited for the tea and his steward. 

A cold, crisp air came in from the balcony. Frost etched the grass and fallen leaves in a silver-white patchwork. Gray clouds hung heavily over the estate’s grounds. As he slid the door closed to the chill, Byakuya could see the gardener and an assistant some distance away, burning leaves and brush as they prepared the gardens for the winter.

Eishirō arrived a moment later, laden down with hot tea, which he set out in the sitting room near the irori, the sunken fire pit. Byakuya sat, cradling the warm bowl in his hands, watching as Eishirō stoked the embers into a warm glow.

The color reminded Byakuya of Renji’s hair.

“Is Seichi fitting in?” Byakuya asked.

“Somewhat, my lord,” Eishirō said, as he continued to fuss with the fire. “I’ve attached him to the master gardener.”

So, that other distant figure in the gardens had been Seichi? 

Byakuya nodded, sipping his tea. It was a wise choice. The gardener was old and in need of an assistant. Similarly, outdoor work would suit Seichi’s rough personality far better than kitchen scullery or laundry, certainly. 

Once the fire was set, Eishirō sat seiza near the door. “He resisted your crest, but I made it clear it was part of the arrangement,” Eishirō continued, his head bowed. “However, he seemed… pleased to be given shoes, of all things. He made no complaint about his sleeping arrangements, even though it seemed best to put him in one of the out buildings near the gardener’s hut.”

Seichi was sleeping in a potting shed? Byakuya didn’t think Renji would approve. “Does the gardener not have a spare bit of floor?”

Eishirō dipped his head further. “Provided Abarai-san is still with us as the winter deepens, I will ask the gardener’s wife if she’s comfortable housing him. I… they’re very old, my lord. I’m as yet uncertain how much trouble Abarai-san will be.”

Indeed. What Eishirō very carefully did not say was that Seichi was a criminal. He could very well be violent and dangerous. The gardener and his wife, meanwhile, were frail and vulnerable.

“Very well,” Byakuya said. “I will leave things to your discretion.”

Eishirō’s head touched the floor briefly. “Thank you, my lord.”

Byakuya took a sip of tea. “Arrange a breakfast meeting with myself, our head bodyguard, and my twelfth seat,” he ordered. “I would like to get underway as quickly as possible and we need to discuss the particulars of the tea caravan and the potential ambush. I suppose you’d best pull Seichi in. I will send a butterfly to the Second, as well. But, leave the particulars of the meal to someone else; I want you a part of the discussion.”

Eishirō glanced up. “Me, my lord?”

“Yes, as my house steward, there is no one else who understands all the varying factors that go into managing our supplies. Make yourself a place at our table.”

A bright blush bloomed across Eishirō pale cheeks, but he managed a very steady, almost pleased, “It will be as you say, my lord.”

“Excellent,” Byakuya said, and with a nod indicated Eishirō could consider himself dismissed.

Once Eishirō had bowed his way out, Byakuya poured himself a second bowl of tea and watched the embers flare and fade and collected his thoughts. 

At least he would be spared breakfast with Aunt Masama this morning. Byakuya wasn’t sure what he would say to her, particularly after his harrowing meeting with Captain Kurotsuchi. She would gloat to know that she was right, even a little. Worse, she would double-down on the pressure to perform the rite. 

Byakuya was anxious to know what Urahara might say to their problem of the purification because he would much rather face Auntie Massey fully-armed. Hopefully, Renji would write soon. Still, regardless of the answer, Auntie Massey was not likely to appreciate any alternative, though perhaps Byakuya could mollify her by the fact that he was, in fact, taking her concerns seriously.

He grunted. Considering the threats she’d made in the past, it didn’t seem likely there was any satisfying her. No doubt she would prefer to see Renji torn limb from limb.

In a way, he was glad to be dealing with bandits today. Such brutish thugs seemed far more straightforward than Kuchiki women and their politics.

Byakuya got up and went over to the balcony doors. Shoving them aside a bit, he leaned against the door jam and looked out over the estate. The sun made a valiant effort to shine through the grayness, but the light only served to give everything a sharp edge in the gloom. The frost, which had faded in patches, stubbornly clung to the shadier sections of the garden. 

Tea steam warmed his face, as Byakuya scanned for Seichi and the gardener. Their brush pile was ablaze now and the scent of cherry wood and burning leaves drifted through the breeze. Seichi, it seemed from a distance, was no shirker. He applied himself to the work at hand. Byakuya would expect such behavior from an Abarai, but he supposed such an assumption was unwise.

The brothers had, after all, had very different lives.

It was difficult not to wonder what would have happened to Renji, had fate reversed the brothers’ fortunes. Strangely, despite the odds against, Byakuya imagined Renji becoming some kind of prison boss, a king of thieves. Perhaps it was a touch romantic, but Zabimaru, however starved, would still be in Renji’s soul, and a hungry demon was a terrible thing to behold.

Look at Zaraki, after all.

Too long in the wilderness, and Renji could have ended up like that monster: illiterate, untrained, and seething with raw power that was so unfocused it was nothing more than force of nature, hell bent on destruction.

No wonder Auntie Masama was so afraid of souls like that.

They all should be.

#

Renji tossed a can of iced coffee at the flattened Chad. The arm, the one with all that strength, shot up and caught it, as if of its own accord. 

“Thanks,” Chad murmured. He didn’t sit up yet, however. He just balanced the cold, sweating aluminum can on his panting chest.

Renji kind of wanted to apologize. He’d been lost in thought, thinking about Byakuya’s letter and had lost track of how hard he was hitting the kid. 

Zabimaru wouldn’t let him say sorry, however. Though they had collapsed back into their sealed state, the zanpakutō was still preening with pleasure at their timing and skill. Both Chad and Zabimaru would feel disrespected if Renji said he felt badly about any of it.

Taking up a perch on a sun-warmed boulder, Renji opened his own can with a pop of the tab. Chad was kind of an amazing guy, really, when you thought about it. Because, honestly? He shouldn’t even see Renji coming. Literally. After all, Renji was fighting in his spirit form. Technically, he should be invisible. But, on top of that, here was this human being strong enough to block a blow from Hihio Zabimaru.

Well, most of the time. 

Still, the kid was in one piece after getting slammed full-force with bankai.

Bankai.

There were high-level shinigami would be plastered after one hit.

“You’re one seriously tough bastard, I got to hand you that,” Renji said, taking a long pull of the sweet milky coffee. 

In acknowledgement, Chad sat up. Opening up his can, he took a sip. After a moment, he met Renji’s eye from under that mop of dark curls. “ _Ghost Bust_ is on tonight.”

Renji cringed. That damn show. Rubbing the sweat from his face, Renji said, “I’m going to try to die before it airs.”

Chad nodded, but then stopped and gave Renji another long look. “Aren’t you already dead?”

“You know what I mean,” Renji snarled. “I mean, seriously, maybe you can just pound me unconscious until the whole thing is over.”

“So… it is you,” Chad said. Was that a blush darkening his cheeks? “Ichigo thought so.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me,” Renji said. “You know anybody else with red hair and tiger tats who is only partly visible to sensitive souls?”

Chad just raised his eyebrows as he drank his iced coffee. After a moment, he said, “Ichigo is having a viewing party.”

Fuck. Of course he was. “I thought he hated that show.”

Chad nodded, but offered no other explanation. 

Not that there needed to be any. Ichigo was the guy with the nice house and welcoming family. It made sense everyone would gather there. If Orihime were around, she’d probably organize something with Rukia, but they were off training. “So, is this going to be a boys’ night or something?”

“Plus his sisters,” Chad noted, “And your friend.”

“Fuck me, Matsumoto is going? Does that mean…?” Ah hell, of course it did. Everyone from the Soul Society was going to be crammed around Ichigo’s couch, eating popcorn, and watching Renji’s utter humiliation. “Yeah, no, I think it’s a quiet night in for me.”

Chad shrugged, as if to say ‘suit yourself.’ “The shōten isn’t watching?”

They probably were. Renji shrugged. “It’s a big shop. Maybe I’ll just hide out down here.”

Apparently having chugged the rest of the drink, Chad crushed the can in his fist. He tossed the empty in the direction of the recycling and other garbage they’d haul up at the end of the day. “Go again?”

Already? Shit, this kid was serious. Renji finished up his own coffee and hopped off the boulder, “Sure, why not?”

#

Wisely, Eishirō had set Byakuya and his team up in the ‘war room,’ one of the more spacious rooms in the estate. Servants had brought in a large Western-style table that was now piled with maps. A simple buffet was set out on a table at the far side of the room, but attendants bustled around with tea kettles and treat trays, as well.

The captain of the Kuchiki bodyguard was a tall woman with short, trim steel-gray hair. She had an air of no-nonsense about her that Byakuya immediately appreciated. She had come prepared, having already pinpointed the tea shipment’s caravan. They were now huddled over a topography map of the route, double checking with the reports that the Twelfth Seat had received via Hell butterfly from the head teamster. Meanwhile, Eishirō briefed them on what else the caravan was carrying.

Seichi, on the other hand, had not moved from the buffet table since he arrived. 

“I think they will attack here, my lord,” the bodyguard said. “The hills are natural cover and the bridge makes this a weak point in the defenses.”

“Seichi,” Byakuya said. “What do you think?”

“Huh?” Seichi looked up from where he was stuffing his face with smoked salmon.

“Come, look at this map,” Byakuya insisted. “Tell me if you think bandits would do as we think they would.”

Seichi sidled up to the table as if he thought it might bite him, his hands holding an overfilled plate. He glanced down at the map. Squinting at it for a moment, he pointed at one of the words, “Does that say Forty-Two?”

“It does,” Byakuya acknowledged.

“Are these bandits of yours in the Yellow River Gang? Because ain’t no one but Yellow River works Forty-Two.”

Byakuya nodded. “So this whole area would be off limits to outsiders?”

“Unless they got an in with Old Man Ashikaga, I’d say yeah, no.” 

The Twelfth Seat, a rangy lad, all limbs and elbows, looking barely out of Academy, said, “But how could we know, Taicho? Isn’t it possible they’ve made some kind of deal with the locals?”

Everyone looked at Seichi, who’d gone back to stuffing his face. At their attention, he shrugged. “’S possible,” he agreed around a mouthful of rice ball. He dribbled sticky rice from his fingers as he circled another area of the map, “But this here is lawless. This space between districts is where there’s a lot of outlaw camps. Spent time here, myself. Attack here and you don’t got to split the takings with no one but your crew. Only problem here? You got to move fast, ‘cuz everyone’s gunning for a piece, you know?”

The bodyguard nodded. “Flat, but heavy tree cover. There is tactical advantage for a smaller raiding party.”

The ninja from the Second spoke for the first time. Her voice cut through doubt, sharp and decisive, “And for us.”

It was decided, it seemed.

What remained was a plan for ambush. They spent several hours working out details, with Seichi piping in with the occasional tidbit regarding typical bandit raiding party sizes.

At the end of it, their contingencies had contingencies and Byakuya was satisfied that they had a fair shot of catching the bandits red handed. But, they would keep up communication via Hell butterflies with all the caravans in the Rukongai. If necessary, if they were wrong about any of this, those that could would shunpō to wherever the attack was happening and try to apprehend at least one of the bandits.

Byakuya dismissed everyone except Seichi. Byakuya doubted Seichi was in a hurry to return to gardening, at any rate, as he was still eating. Like his brother, Seichi seemed to have no limit to amount of food he could put away.

Seichi continued to huddle near the buffet as Byakuya went over the maps one more time. “You were helpful,” Byakuya noted.

“I got nothing else to do,” Seichi shrugged, filling up his plate again. Then, he glanced briefly in Byakuya’s direction, and said, “Plus, I guess maybe it’s what’s owed for springing me from the joint.”

Byakuya nodded noncommittally. Seichi, it seemed, had adopted one of his brother’s habits. A dark bandana covered his forehead tattoos and he had pulled the majority of his blond dreads from his face in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. 

He wore a gardener’s short gi pants and a simple kosode in Kuchiki blue with the Byakuya’s personal crest over his heart. Seeing it, reminded Byakuya that Seichi had not, in fact, taken the oath. Byakuya should not count on loyalty just because Seichi wore the uniform of a retainer.

“You do realize that lunch will be served in two hours?” Byakuya asked dryly as Seichi continued to devour every last bit of the remaining food on the buffet table.

Seichi looked a little startled. “Yeah? For me, too?”

“Yes,” Byakuya assured him, though to be honest, Byakuya wasn’t entirely certain when the staff ate. He did, at least, know that Seichi could expect three meals a day. Deciding the distinction wasn’t worth explaining, however, Byakuya went back to perusing the maps and plans.

“How does the balance sheet ever even up?” Seichi asked. “How do I ever walk out of here not owing you for something?”

Byakuya glanced up from the papers. Seichi seemed to be staring at the food differently now, as though it has soured. 

“I guess, you don’t, huh?” Seichi continued. “I guess there’s no measure for all this, what you’ve done—bringing someone up outta Inuzuri and like that? A person can never pay in full. There’s no way. It’s too much.”

Byakuya frowned. “I’m keeping no tally.”

“No?” Seichi sounded suspicious. “You give it all away for free, do you? If I told you I thought my help today made us square, you’d let me go?”

Byakuya didn’t think Seichi had given them that precious of information, but Seichi seemed very upset about this, so Byakuya said, “I could. I believe Soi Fon has relinquished her authority over you, so it would be possible for me to commute your sentence. But, there are a number of reasons why I would rather you stayed under my aegis. First among them is that I promised Renji that I would take care of you in his absence.”

“Ah… shit,” Seichi said. Looking suddenly stricken, Seichi clutched at his stomach. “I’m adding to _his_ ledger. It ain’t on me to pay, but Renji… oh, shit. Oh, God.” 

Seichi’s face had turned a decidedly greenish color and he’d started to moan where he clutched at his stomach. 

“You’ve overeaten,” Byakuya said tersely, as he glanced around for some suitable bucket. “If you must vomit, please use the—“

But, it was too late to point out the nearby soup tureen. Seichi’s breakfast came up in hot, gushing waves that spattered the polished hardwood. 

Damnation, where had all the servants disappeared to? Byakuya stood, but he was uncertain what to do. 

Seichi had collapsed to his knees and continued to empty the contents of his stomach in heaves. He also appeared to be weeping.

Finally, apparently alerted to the horrible noises coming from Seichi, a concerned servant appeared at the door, “My lord, is something the matter?”

“Fetch someone from the Fourth and help Seichi back to his… no, his quarters won’t do. Take him to one of the cots in the infirmary in the Sixth and let the gardener know he’s short an assistant for the afternoon.”

“Yes, my lord.” Over his shoulder, the serving boy spoke to someone outside the door and then came in. Pulling a towel off his shoulder, the boy knelt beside Seichi and rubbed his back and offered him the cloth for his mouth. After another moment, a serving girl came rushing in with more towels and a bucket.

Byakuya let out a relieved breath. They would take care of things. As more servants began bustling about, Byakuya decided the best course was to get out of their way. But, before he could get out the door, Seichi called out.

“Wait! Please, Kuchiki-sama!”

Byakuya turned slightly, “Don’t strain yourself, Seichi. A medic is on their way.”

“No, I can’t stand the thought… I mean, I don’t want Renji to have to do anything…. Can’t you just toss me back to the Second? I don’t want no trouble over me.”

It was a strangely selfless sentiment, if misplaced. His illness also seemed to have addled Seichi, because he made no sense with this babbling. “There’s no trouble, Seichi. You must learn to pace yourself that is all. Perhaps a diet of bland soups is best for a while, but I’m sure the medic will know best. Now, excuse me, but I must see to the Division.”

When he left, for some reason, Seichi’s moans grew louder and more inconsolable. Renji could not come back soon enough.


End file.
